


Seeds of Doubt

by Xaviers_protege



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Misogyny, Rule 63!Aramis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-12 04:37:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2096061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xaviers_protege/pseuds/Xaviers_protege
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In place of sharp angles and hard lines were soft curves and soft skin, unobstructed by masculine hair. It is the 17th Century and it is difficult to be a woman, especially for Aramis of the King's Musketeers; the first woman to be employed in a position of such responsibility since Joan d'Arc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic. Please review.

The morning air was crisp and cool and clean. The freshness of the new day permeated the room, which the natural light of the sun had lit. All signs of the sins committed the previous night had been washed away by the wave of the clear scent of the spring morning.

A soft moan broke through the calm silence. A woman lay on her stomach upon the four-poster bed. The soft quilts had slid down her body, exposing the smooth, pale skin of her back, and yet still allowed her the slightest modesty by keeping her legs and buttocks covered. She shifted ever so slightly.

A hand gently traced up the line of her spine, nails scraping her flesh lightly to bring her pleasure. It had the desired effect; the woman smiled and stretched out like a feline waking from pleasant dreams. Her hair was splayed out around her, messed up by vigorous activity and deep sleep. "It is too early to face the day, Jacques." She complained, thought the soft expression on her face contradicted her statement.

"Ah, but my love, another day we must face for we are both on duty today." Her companion, Jacques, replied. Jacques was a tall, slender man that made one underestimate the lean muscle that hid under his Red Guard uniform. He was handsome, with his dark, inviting eyes and well-groomed hair. "Neither of our superiors will be pleased if we are late."

"Yes," she mused, "it would not do well to keep Captain Treville waiting. As for the Cardinal... well he has many other people to spare." A sigh escaped her and she quietly rolled onto her back. Jacques licked hid lips as he looked upon her breasts. "My, my. Have I distracted you?” She gazed at him with fake innocence in her hazel eyes. "Perhaps you did not mean your earlier statement of 'responsibility'." She said the last word slowly as if she did not understand.

"Aramis, you play dirty." Jacques moaned, lowering himself to meet her lips with his own as he did so. His tongue traced her kiss-swollen, pink lips and she opened up to accept him. They danced lazily for dominance, sleep still faintly clawing at the back of their eyes. They stayed entwined together for a long moment, breathing in each other. "We are expected to be at our posts not long from now." The male whispered into her air.

Aramis frowned. "I suppose." She sat up, Jacques backing away so that he was kneeling between her legs while she pressed her chest to his. Her skin was a white porcelain when against his, her Spanish heritage meaning nothing when it came to her complexion. "I wish this moment never had to end."

The man in front of her simply smiled sadly and brushed her wavy, brunette hair from her face. "If our superiors were to ever find out, if our friends..." he trailed off, leaving the rest of to his companion's imagination. "We were meant to hate each other. It was burned into our bones when we chose our professions. I wish I could court you publicly. Then, this moment could last as long as we wanted, with little consequence."

"Jacques..."

A finger was placed upon her lips. "Hush. Do you hear that?" They froze as they both listened intently. Faint footsteps could be heard as they carefully listened to calculate the distance. It was a necessary skill in their line of work. "They are coming here. You need to leave. I do not want them to find you." They sprang into action as if a switch had been turned on in their minds. They hurried to clothe themselves, (Jacques in his night-wear and Aramis in the clothes that her friend Athos had given to her when she admitted to him that traditional women's wear was uncomfortable not to mention impractical.), and attempted to hide the evidence. Aramis had one leg outside the window before she realised her pistol was still on the floor. "Leave it. Go." Jacques mouthed whilst gesturing her to leave. She climbed out the window, hanging on to the ledge out of sight. Jacques quickly kicked the pistol under the bed just as the door opened, revealing the Cardinal.

"Monsieur Chatal." The Cardinal greeted coldly, as if Jacques were intruding in his room rather than the other way around. Jacques panicked as his employer walked to the window, calmly examining the view. He gave an internal sigh of relief when the Cardinal once again focused his attention on him.

"Your Eminence." The nervous reply came. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Do stop it with the formalities, I am hardly in the mood for such annoyances." He waved a hand in dismissal. "I do, however, wish to discuss these rumours of your encounters with a Musketeer." Jacques tensed visibly. He opened his mouth to reply, but the Cardinal beat him to it. "Don't... try to deny it. I can tell by your reaction that there is some truth to it?"

Jacques was speechless. Who could have known?

"I hope you know that I consider this an act of betrayal, Monsieur Chatal. Do you know how it would impact my Red Guard? One of my own associating himself with the infamous whore of the Musketeers. She causes enough controversy within her own regiment and we don’t need that kind of publicity." The fury on the Cardinal's face was well-hidden, but Jacques had worked for him for a long time and knew that the man had excellent control. It only made him all the more nervous. "I have thought of how to approach this delicate situation for a long time when I realised that this could be advantageous for us. You have someone on the inside.”

Jacques thought on his statement and realised what he meant for him to do. “You want me to spy on her?” He asked incredulously.

“If that is what you want to call it. However, we have an opportunity to find out all of the King’s _precious_ Musketeer’s dirty little secrets and finally have the upper hand.” Something changed in the Cardinal as he scrutinised Jacques. “Unless you object. Of course, then you would have to be ‘dealt with’.”

Jacques sighed. He knew he had no choice. He could only pray that Aramis – and God - could forgive him.


	2. Chapter 2

Aramis made her way back to the garrison, laughing lightly at the situation only minutes previously. She enjoyed her time with Jacques and she really, _really_ liked him. The best part of their relationship was that _he wasn’t married._ The musketeer had an unhealthy habit of sleeping with men (and occasionally women, when she was feeling particularly daring) who were already in relationships with other women (or men) - ones who could become incredibly jealous when they find out that an attractive woman had been fulfilling the carnal desires of their spouse. It was a surprisingly - or not - dangerous lifestyle to lead.

When she approached her destination, she smiled, hearing the boisterous laugh of one of her good friends, Porthos. His laugh never failed to cheer her up, no matter how difficult times had gotten; one of the only things she could remember about her slow recovery after Savoy was hearing Porthos laugh loudly, almost as if compensating for her own silence. It was her favourite thing about him.

Athos’ support had been different, though no less appreciated. He had stayed with her, providing the warmth she needed to chase away the ice from her bones.

“Aramis!” Porthos greeted, smiling widely, his eyes bright with laughter. “Where have you been? You missed young d’Artagnan here attempt to beat Athos, _again_.”

“Again? You’d have thought he would have learned by now.” She replied, smirking as she made her way next to her friend. She turned to observe the pair who were in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by other musketeers, older veterans and newer recruits. A few of the older ones were wincing at the sight of young d’Artagnan on the ground, struggling to get to his feet after yet another defeat at Athos’ blade, whilst the younger men, those less acquainted with the taste of the steel of Athos’ sword, were chuckling at the seemingly easy beating.

“Athos, stop humiliating the poor boy.” She called narrowing her eyes at some of the younger recruits pointing at d’Artagnan and sniggering. There seemed to be some form of a leader within the small group. It was no surprise, recruits often ended up banding together during their training, which helped later when they needed to trust each other. This particular group however, seemed… off. “Why don’t you embarrass one of the others. I’m sure they would love to benefit from learning from that experience.” She suggested, not looking away.

The recruits turned their eyes to her, a slight malicious look in the leader’s eyes. He was older than a recruit usually was, almost like he had joined to escape his previous life, much like Athos had. “And what would a woman know of combat?” He asked. Porthos’ face hardened and Athos straightened and tensed. D’Artagnan stopped attempting to get up to stare incredulously at the man. “You’re pretending that you belong here by playing dress up in a man’s clothing.” He laughed, and looked towards his posse for support, but they were shifting around, uncomfortable with the way their leader had disrespected one of their superiors.

Porthos stepped forward threateningly, but Aramis held him back with a hand on his shoulder. “Would you like to find out how much of a pretender I am?” She raised an eyebrow and began to step towards him. “Pick up a sword.” She ordered. Silently, Athos handed over his own blade, which was his own way of telling her not to hold back. D’Artagnan smirked and quickly followed Athos to the edge of the courtyard, to stand by Porthos, whose anger was still painted across his face.

The man scoffed and looked around. “Fine. I’ll play along.”

It was over embarrassingly fast. Aramis’ challenger had started to doubt himself as he saw the fire in the woman’s eyes – and the laughter in those around him. His hesitance meant he was too slow to parry and block Aramis’ blows, which came faster than he had anticipated. After a few moments, he lost his footing and was quickly brought to the ground, humiliating him in only a brief amount of time.

The other, older Musketeers chuckled as the recruit’s misfortune and the defeated man growled in frustration. “You are a coward!” He cried. “You have no honour.”

“She beat you in a fair duel.” Athos raised an eyebrow at the accusation.

“She is a woman!”

“Am I?” Aramis asked, pretending to be shocked. “Porthos! How could you not have told me? My entire life has been a lie! I am so happy that this young man could enlighten me.” She exclaimed to her friend who shrugged in reply, his whole body shaking with laughter.

“How dare you mock me.” His voice was low, dangerous. Something shifted in the atmosphere and it became colder, foreboding. Athos, Porthos and D’Artagnan slowly took a few steps towards their friend.

The man took a couple of deep breaths, his cheeks flushed in anger. It was almost as if he were a bull, readying to charge. He suddenly kicked out, catching Aramis hard in the shin. She cried out, falling to one knee and her three friends hurried to assist her. The man struck out with his legs again, his foot connecting harshly with her jaw. She fell back and Porthos roared in fury. He grabbed the man by his shoulders and brought him up to his level. His hands curled into fists and he punched the disputer as hard as he could.

The man’s acquaintances seemed conflicted as to whether they should help the recruit that they had previously looked to as a leader. Said recruit attempted to fight back as the punches kept raining down on his body.

“Porthos!” An authoritative voice cried. Everything stopped. Porthos froze mid-swing; those who were spectating held their breaths. There was complete silence as Captain Tréville stared down at them all disapprovingly.

He sighed exasperatedly. “You four…My office.” He didn’t need to specify, much to the amusement of the experienced Musketeers. “And _you_.” He pointed at the misogynistic challenger. “I will deal with you later.” He said menacingly.


End file.
